


Truths in Letters

by Ashii Black (ashiiblack), gameofdrarrymod, just_another_loser



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Confessions, Epistolary, Falling In Love, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 12:59:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18811384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashiiblack/pseuds/Ashii%20Black, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gameofdrarrymod/pseuds/gameofdrarrymod, https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_loser/pseuds/just_another_loser
Summary: When Pansy and Hermione suggested some inter-house unity “games”, “Guess the pen-friend” wasn’t exactly what Draco expected. And there’s something about his pen-friend that feels so familiar. Why does he get so frustrated by these letters yet hold his breath waiting for the next one to arrive? And what is going to happen when it comes time for the big reveal?





	1. Letter One: Draco

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the 2019 Owlery Exchange. The authors were matched and corresponded back and forth anonymously as Harry and Draco for the duration of the exchange until reveals.
> 
> [Ashii Black](http://archiveofourown.org/users/) wrote as Harry.  
> [just_another_loser](http://archiveofourown.org/users/) wrote as Draco.

To my pen-friend.  
  
I’m not going to lie; I endeavour to be as honest as I possibly can be when writing to you.  
  
I think this was a terrible plan, and I hate the entire concept of it. I could tell that the girls were scheming for the inter-house unity that McGonagall has attempted to force. I strangely like the idea of it, but the execution of it seems to be shocking.  
  
I’m not particularly sure of what I should reveal in these letters, but my assumption is that they will most likely be burned upon reading, so I doubt it matters. I wish to congratulate you if you made it this far.  
  
This week, the two most exciting things were the looming conversations about job prospects in “the real world,” and the party we had on Sunday night. I may have drunk too much, though. It is... unlike me to become intoxicated. I suppose the post-war guilt has finally caught up with me.  
  
It’s peculiar. It seems to have affected everyone in different ways. One boy I know used to have the most wonderful eyes, that shone like gems when he smiled, but now all I see are heavy pebbles that weigh down his heart with mistrust. It wrenched at my heart to witness the life and soul being coaxed out of the castle by an invisible sorcerer of pain.  
  
Maybe I should attempt to lighten up this writing...  
  
I could tell you mundane, bland, miniature observations about myself? Whilst it is certainly self-indulgent, who knows; you may consider it to be fascinating.  
  
Primarily, I dislike coffee and tea, yet I drink both to remind me not to harm anyone when I first awaken. Hot chocolate, however, is a guilty pleasure of mine. In fact, all chocolate is perfect in my eyes. I prefer mint the most: it holds an unreplaceable freshness to its flavour. The next fact is that I am allergic to certain types of bird, which thoroughly upset my parents when they purchased several expensive creatures without consulting me beforehand. The main problem is that I secretly adore birds, but I am doomed if I go anywhere near them. Ironic, really.  
  
I wish I didn't have to write first. I'm too nosy and honestly uncertain to be writing to someone without being able to ask them questions. I could leave you some, but I don't want to pressure you into answering them. It may be odd, but I want to learn the tiny details about everyone; the ones that a best friend picks up on after ten years of knowing one another.  
  
Make me a promise, pen-friend? Ask me and answer me something each letter? I'll begin with something simple: favourite drink?  
  
I'm not too sure of what else to put. I guess I need to await your answers before responding accordingly. I so desperately want to describe my image of you. Currently you're just a nameless fellow, a common traveller down a path that leads nowhere. You have no face, but I picture you to have the most dazzling smile and personality. I want you to be everything I am not: brave, and content, and happy.   
  
Even without meeting you, I've romanticised you. How ridiculous.   
  
From,   
Your Pen-friend.  
  
P.S. I hope you are happy, no matter who you may be.


	2. Letter Two: Harry

Pen-friend,    
  
I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised to get this letter. I expected some witch blathering on about homework. I appreciate your honesty and I promise to extend the same courtesy to you. Also, I don't love answering questions (too many bad experiences with reporters) but my friends think it would be good for me to share a part of myself with no strings attached. Apparently, I've been withdrawn since the war ended. If it makes them happy, I will do my best to answer any question you have of me.   
  
Inter-House unity is overrated. With what we went through, it isn't necessary. I don't give a shit what House you're in; if you were at the Final Battle, you have my respect. Still, I want to support the girls in their newfound friendship so I will join in this pen friend campaign like everyone else.   
  
The career conversation I had with the Headmistress and my classmates took me by surprise. For years, I always had the same career goal. Now, I feel lost. I want to feel safe in my future career, whatever that may be. I think it might be interesting to become a professor. Hogwarts has always been home to me and now that the constant threat of death is no longer present, I finally have a chance to breathe. It would be brilliant to study under one of the professors and learn to teach. I think I may have a knack for it. If you don't mind my asking, do you have a career in mind?   
  
That boy you speak of, the one whose shine is gone, I understand how he feels. Now that the war is over, the war we were all used as pawns for the greater good, I don't know what to do. I broke up with the person I was seeing. She wasn't...my type. It's hard for me to connect to anyone, really. Everyone's been through the same thing, yet no one understands me.   
  
Enough of my whining. Sorry about that.    
  
You have a sweet tooth! Do you ever put whipped cream on top of your hot chocolate? It's divine. Admittedly, I don't have a particular weakness for chocolate but I'd never say no to a steamy mug of hot chocolate.   
  
My favourite drink by far is pumpkin juice. I know most people find it repulsive but I grew up with Muggles and I tasted it for the first time at Hogwarts. To me, Hogwarts is home, so it reminds me of the place I love the most.   
  
As for the question to ask you, I want to know your favourite colour. While some may expect me to love the colours of my House, I'm very partial to green. It's the colour of the grass on the Quidditch pitch, something else I love.    
  
I find myself looking around the Eighth Year Common Room, trying to figure out who you could be. Are you Terry Boot, the silent academic? Lavender Brown, forever changed after her encounter with Greyback? Blaise Zabini, suddenly outspoken and friendly? Hannah Abbott, whom I've heard crying between classes? You're probably someone I'll never guess.   
  
I hope your perception of me hasn't gotten worse from this letter. My friends tell me I'm a bit of an idiot. And no, I can't say I'm happy, but your letter made things marginally better. I look forward to hearing back from you.   
  
From,   
P.F.   
  
P.S. I know I'm responding rather quickly. Don't feel at all pressured to answer back as fast as me. I just had a lot to get off my chest.


	3. Letter Three: Draco

To my penfriend,  
  
You seem to have caught me out here: my sweet tooth is rather secret, yet unrivalled and unparalleled. Furthermore, pumpkin juice (whilst unusual) is nonetheless a good drink choice. I have a new-found respect for you, my dearest penfriend, seeing that you agree to the perfect method of serving a hot chocolate.  
  
I do have a career goal in mind, but it is unexpected, and I will have to work furiously at it to get anywhere. I would love to be a healer. My reasoning may be ridiculous and clichéd, but I can't stand to see anyone else get hurt. I lost too much already, and I don't want anybody else to suffer like I did. I suppose that even though I don't need to work, I would feel rather uncomfortable just wasting away behind the closed doors of a lavish house. It's unthinkable, really.  
  
I would like to also say that I am sorry about your breakup. While I do not know you personally, I know the emotional strain created by the war. After our names are revealed, I would be willing to support you if need be, no matter who you are.  
  
Guessing who I am writing to seems to be difficult. I have people in mind that I wish for you to be, and people who you will realistically be. If it is any help to you, I am not anyone who you identified in your previous letter, and would be truly mortified to take any of their personalities. Who are you? I am assuming you are a boy, but even if you aren't, you have a very familiar style of writing. It's fascinating. Your wording feels like the written embodiment of a hug on a frosty day, or the smell of rain hitting the pavement in the middle of the night. The feeling of... home, strangely enough.  
  
I personally adore all greens and blues. I feel a sense of house loyalty in relation to the former, but the latter reminds me of my mother. It's a melancholic colour, and so many thoughts can hide within it. Ruefully reminiscent.  
  
You mentioned Quidditch, which I love, too. Maybe we could have a match together sometime? I'm only beaten by a select few players, so there's a possibility of either a friendly rivalry, or just some pure, wholesome, innocent enjoyment.  
  


It's been increasingly tough to find such an outlet recently, as most people have grown more reserved.  
  
Without prying too much, I am enthralled. No matter who you turn out to be, if you wish it, I will unconditionally offer you friendship without judgment.  
  
I apologize. I have an awful habit of derailing myself onto irrelevant tangents.  
  
My question for you is whether or not you have any tattoos. I have one muggle and one magic.  
  
I shan't disclose the nature of the magical one, but I assume you can piece together its origin. We all made mistakes, and I hope you can look past mine without judgment. The muggle tattoo, however, is elegant and dainty. It's a floral framework. If I cannot rid myself of my sins, I concluded I might as well try and surround them with the choices I made.  The flowers are white, with a vibrant yellow centre. They mean an awful lot to me. Perhaps one day I can show you them, if we become close enough.  
  
I'm sorry my tone has been so dismal. War isn't a particularly easy thing to recover from.  
  
From,  
Your penfriend.  
  
P.S. I think you're either a Hufflepuff or a Gryffindor. You're clearly not a Slytherin, as you mentioned your house colours, and a Ravenclaw would know who I am by now. Am I right?


	4. Letter Four: Harry

P.F.,

That's impressive you want to be a Healer. You must be very smart in order to pass all of the classes required to be a Healer. I understand wanting to help and not wanting anyone else to be hurt. Sometimes, when I think about the war, I feel helpless and wish I could have saved more people.

Honestly, I can't say I'm too upset about the breakup itself. I'm gay.

There. I said it. Or rather, I wrote it. I haven't told anyone, not even my friends. I don't know why I haven't told anyone; I know my friends will accept me. It's something so new, something I discovered about myself just this past summer. It's new and terrifying. But telling you, my penfriend, feels like less of a risk. I trust you even though I don't know your face.

I'm glad you aren't any of the people I guessed and it does narrow things down a bit. Based on some of what you've said, I think you were on the other side of the war last year. Know that I don't hold that fact against any of the students who are back this year because you've put up with a lot of shit to be able to come back to school. It takes a lot of courage to admit you were wrong. I admire all of you. I don't know if I'm strong enough to do that myself.

And you're right, I'm not a Ravenclaw or Slytherin. I hope I'm not off on this but are you a Slytherin?

There seems to be a special connection between us. I don't know what exactly it is or why I feel it so much, but I'm glad you're my penfriend.

Quidditch is a release for me. It's been a while since I've gotten on my broom, so I'm probably a bit rusty. I haven't been on a broomstick since the battle. I'd love to create some new memories, especially with you. It's true, so many of us have been more reserved this year. But from here on out, I vow to try to be less reserved, to be loud and to take risks. We're still young, aren't we? Should we let Voldemort continue to rule our lives even after death?

Your floral tattoo sounds lovely. I'd love to see it. My tattoo is less interesting. It's an outline of an owl in memory of my owl, who died last year. She was my only connection to the magical world during the summers between school and it felt appropriate to honor her. This may be giving too much away, as it's on the inside of my arm and is relatively easy to spot if I'm wearing a t-shirt.

Considering both of us seem to be stuck in the past, I'd like to ask something for the future. What is something you want for yourself? For me, I want to travel and see the world, to go where no one knows my name. Even though I'd like to teach, I think I'm going to take a year and explore. I've never been out of Britain. One of my best friends visited France and another Egypt, so I'd like to see those places and then wherever my desire takes me.

Maybe one day we can both find peace.

 

From,

Your Penfriend


	5. Letter Five: Draco

My dearest penfriend,

I do believe I have a highly accurate guess of who you may be. No matter whether or not I am correct, do not fear: I shall never reveal these letters to any others without your permission.

I, much like you, am also gay. No, I'm not "out" yet - I daren't, for fear my parents will abandon me. I understand your struggles. I suspect most people feel strangely about it. Much like blood-prejudice, homosexuality is a highly debated topic... If you ever decide to come out to the public, you have my word that I will do the same. It will make it a little easier for you, I hope.

As you said, I have put up with rather a large amount of shit his year, but most of it has been minor harassment, or just being ignored. I look forward to your letters; they're one of the only times I can communicate with anyone anymore without being judged on some basis. The war was awful, and losing most certainly held consequences that I did not want nor anticipate. I, however, am definitely not strong, admirable, or brave. I have ruined myself, and anyone who dares to come near me. I'll let you in on a secret: I'm fucking terrified. I only have my mother to truly rely on. No more friends, no more social events, no dances, no dates, nothing. I have been thrown from grace like Lucifer in the muggle Bible. It's dumb. After being so against those without magic, I must say that I thoroughly adore their cultures.

You have figured me out, my darling penfriend. I am a Slytherin, through and through. I shall for the rest of this letter presume you are a Gryffindor, and that you are also surprisingly intelligent.

Training to become a healer is ridiculously challenging. It's worse than the muggle junior doctor work, both physically and mentally. I wouldn't use smart as the word to describe myself. My mind is similar to a sponge. A borderline photographic memory seems to be my main saviour when it comes to exams. It's certainly how I've kept up appearances for so long.

The future was something I hadn't considered until recently. Whilst fun, travelling is time-consuming, and something I have many restrictions on. However, my family do have a lovely summer house in the south of France; if our letters end positively, may I extend the offer for you to potentially stay there with me for however long you desire over the summer?

I can show you both the muggle and wizarding culture in that area, and, if my suggestion is not convincing enough, there is plenty of rich, gourmet food in every street and town centre.

I don't really know about what I want to do for myself. One main thing I wish to do at some point is to apologise. The boy I mentioned in one of my much earlier letters has been severely hurt by me, and I wish I could genuinely and sincerely tell him I'm sorry. I may also mention my more than moderately affectionate feelings towards him, but that would only ever occur on a paramount number of terms and conditions.

Something else I want to do is probably stupid. I want to fall in love with someone. It won't ever happen, but I still fantasise about being with someone who cares about me regardless of my past. It would be nice, yet impossible. Everyone holds me accountable for the actions of Voldemort, so my happy ever after must remain a mental image, or as a pleasant daydream for my old age.

I hope we do find peace, and maybe even find happiness with another.

I don't have a specific question in mind for you currently... I feel rather lost and empty today. It's cold in my room right now - it's rather unsettling.

Tell me more about your love life? Are you interested in anyone right now? If so, I hope to Merlin that it works out. Goodness knows you certainly deserve it.

From, 

Your penfriend and loyal confidant.

P.S. Thank you for being so constant and understanding. You help me a lot by merely being a staple figure in my life.


	6. Letter Six: Harry

Penfriend,   
  
After your last letter, I believe I also know your identity. I'm unsure how to proceed, not because of fear or surprise but rather we are supposed to remain anonymous during these letters and I'm finding it harder and harder to resist speaking to you myself. I wonder what the girls would do if they were to read these letters. I imagine they'd shove our faces in it, considering neither of us seemed interested in starting this whole penfriend thing. Both of us seem to be eating our words now.   
  
I had a rough day today. As you know, we had a Hogsmeade visit and I met my godson with his grandmother (his parents were killed during the Final Battle). His grandmother wanted to talk about everything and wax poetic over all of my heroic actions. I don't know why this felt so significant; I made it through all the bullshit ceremonies and memorials. Even though it's been years and I should be used to it, I don't want to just be him, the person people see on the Daily Prophet headlines. I'm an idiot and often need things spelled out for me before I understand them. I love Quidditch and treacle tart. I like to sleep in on the weekends. I'm loyal, probably to a fault, to my friends.   
  
Promise me, penfriend, you won't treat me like these people once our identities are officially revealed. I don't think I could handle you looking at me like that, too.   
  
France sounds brilliant. As I mentioned in my previous letter, I've never really been anywhere. Tell me about your summer house. Could we play Quidditch together? Is there a cafe that sells hot chocolate you love?   
  
As of now, my love life is nonexistent. I do have feelings for someone, but I'm not sure if I could call it a crush. So much has happened between us, it's more than a crush. He's beautiful, far softer than the lines on his face show. He's more than the tattoos on his skin or the scars of the past. Sometimes I think he looks at me in the same way I do but I can't know for sure. I'm almost terrified to find out. What if I'm wrong?   
  
I think about telling him how I feel a lot. We'd be in a quiet corner somewhere at Hogwarts or maybe walking back from playing Quidditch. He doubts he's worthy of love, so I think he'd be surprised or, even more likely, wouldn't believe me. But I insist and finally, I kiss him to prove it.   
  
It's exactly as I imagined it -- hell, it's even better. He's a little taller than me so I have to tilt my neck up to reach his lips. I finally have the chance to run my fingers through his hair. It's longer than it used to be and I desperately want to touch it, maybe even give it a pull if he'd let me.   
  
He'd wrap his arms around me once he's certain I'm being honest and return the kiss. For the first time, I feel like something is mine. It isn't something that's been planned out by Dumbledore, something others want for me or from me, nor is it something I'm doing out of obligation. I want him so much and judging by his kiss, he wants me back.   
  
Wow, this got...intense. I'm sorry if that was too much information. Where was all of this writing ability when I had to write that essay for Flitwick last weekend? If you'd like, you can tell me about the boy you like?   
  
-Your PenFriend 


	7. Letter Seven: Draco

My darling Penfriend,

I solemnly swear that I shall never judge you through the eyes of the public. You will never be the poster-boy seen in newspapers; to me, you are something much greater.

Our house in France is incredibly beautiful. There's a large, open hall to greet you with, and the ceilings seem so vast and expansively endless. There's a little door to the left hand side that everyone seems to miss. It leads to the best part of the building. If you were to walk through a small corridor, you'd reach a small suite of ocean blue and sea green rooms: my personal space. There's even a pathway leading to the Quidditch field via the flower garden. You have my word that I shall walk through them with you, and hopefully doing so with your hand in mine.

A café? You seem to know me better than my parents. Yes, there is. A five-minute walk away from the house lies a small coffee shop that creates the most incredible pastries and drinks. I take my hot chocolate with cherry sauce, whipped cream, and marshmallows (but only the pink ones). I would love to take you there if you were to be amendable? They serve wonderful pumpkin juice there, too, if you weren't quite convinced.

My suggestion is to take your chance with this boy. Who wouldn't love you? He's probably more than absolutely smitten with you; I presume that I know that for sure.

The boy I like is chaotic. He makes me feel like I am standing in the centre of a whirlwind permanently. I have loved him for longer than I have known him. A failed offering of friendship ruined a lot for me, but even through all that, I still watched him in the vaguest hope he'd see my affections.

He's athletic in a skinny way. He's obviously curious, and a walking contradiction. I adore him. He's everything I could never be worthy of. I want to touch him everywhere. I want to be the one to wipe away his tears, and to kiss away the nightmares, and to fight his demons. His smile is the memory I use for my Patronus.

I think the way I'd want him to kiss me would to be spontaneously. No awkward pre-planning; just raw instinct and emotion. In the middle of the Great Hall at the start of dinner. In a scuffle in a corridor as we both wandered to potions. After an argument where he wants me to shut up and listen. Before a seekers game of Quidditch when he wishes me luck before kicking off on his broom. Anything to make his passion and emotion come to life in a raw, open manner.

My favourite scenario of his loving declaration would, however, most certainly at the annual Christmas ball my parents insistently hold. It would be roughly an hour or two into the bland, meaningless, repetitive introductions I would endure. My father would make a toast to the "maintenance of the family bloodline", and I would scoff about the engagement plans.

Then he would burst into the room and look my parents in the eyes, and yell a strong "fuck you" at the both of them. After, he would run to me, kiss me, give my father the middle finger, and finally whisk me away to his crappy little London flat that I would secretly adore.

I feel like my fantasies tend to get the better of me. I have wished for their existence for years, with no results to prove success. Maybe I'm not worthy of love. I'm convinced the universe has it in for me. On the other hand, though, I do believe I may have a chance with this boy.

Answer me one final question:

Will you be my Hogsmeade date this weekend?

From,

Your Penfriend

P.S. That essay? It was a bugger to write! What sort of teacher sets 16-and-a-half inches of parchment and then refuses to mark them for another month?!


	8. Letter Eight: Harry

Draco,

I pray it's okay that I use your given name. I know that I just handed you this letter instead of going through Hermione but as you know I'm shit at following rules.

Of course, I'd love to be your Hogsmeade date. We can share hot chocolate with whipped cream and if they don't have cherry sauce we'll find some at Honeydukes. My last date at Hogsmeade was absolute shit but I have a feeling it had more to do with the person than anything else. I can't wait to go on a date with you.

It would be a lie if I said I thought you and I could ever be more than...well, whatever we've been the past seven years. However, I have to admit I've thought about you a lot, especially in the last year. What it would have been like if both of us were just a little less stubborn and more willing to listen to each other. If this penfriend thing had happened a few years ago, would everything have still happened? I know we've both promised not to dwell too much on the past but I can't help it.

Your home in France sounds perfect, exactly where I want to be after we graduate. I want to you take me to that cafe, that small corridor, your Quidditch field. I want to snog you in front of your parents, in front of all of Hogwarts. I want to create more inspiration for our Patronuses. Draco, I want to be anywhere you'll have me.

Once I handed this letter to you, everything has changed. We can't hide behind our quill and parchment, hinting at who we are. It's real, now, more real than it was before. I'm utter shit at verbalizing my feelings, so forgive me for any transgressions I make from here on out (and maybe give me a chance to write things down every now and then).

I want to thank you for being my penfriend, for listening to my secrets and for just being there for me. More than anything, this process has helped me release some of the inner turmoil I've had about the war. Hopefully, I was able to do the same for you. I meant every word I said in my letters.

It's been really hard to hold off on doing this until now, and I'm probably standing there staring at you as you read this. I'm likely admiring your eyes as they skim this letter. They're such a beautiful shape and color. Maybe your mouth is half open. I've thought a lot about your mouth lately.

Now, set this letter aside and kiss me.

 

-Harry

 


End file.
